The Hidden Werewolf

Kael Rennar, the heir of the Rennar family, an infamous war hero born from the bloodline of the Silver-Neck. An ancient family that had been trained to hunt down the beasts—the werewolves. A soldier family that had been protecting the kingdom from the lingering danger caused by werewolves for decades. Legends said that the hunters had pushed the werewolves to hide themselves, protecting themselves by pressing their natural instincts under control beneath human skin. Decades ago, werewolf existence mingling with humans became a threat to humanity. But as the Silver-Necks hunted them down, most of the werewolves went extinct, with only a few still alive in hiding.

"A few days before our engagement, there was a movement of werewolves on the border, and I was sent to hunt them. But you know, werewolves have become more intelligent now. They use magic toners to suppress their instincts and live among humans," Kael continued.

He study her expression as he share his story, yet Elira only look at him with a straight face. Clearly questioning why he suddenly bring out the topic of werewolf during their breakfast. Her vision blurred at the edges. Kael's voice sounded muffled—the suppressant's chains fraying.

He studied her expression as he shared his story, yet Elira only looked at him with a straight face, clearly questioning why he suddenly brought up the topic of werewolves during their breakfast.

"Careful, Elira. You might never realize when you come into contact with one of those beasts. Who knows—they appear and act like normal humans to charm you, Just as Thane for example" his tone was filled with hidden meaning, deliberately testing her. Elira soon caught the strangeness in his tone and frowned.

 Kael watched her knuckles whiten. Good. Fear made wolves reckless. And reckless wolves revealed themselves.

"Are you suggesting that Thane is a werewolf?" Her voice sounded dangerous. Kael smirked, satisfied that she had picked up on his hidden clue, yet it was a smirk full of ambiguity she couldn't fully grasp.

"Clever, you are," his tone clipped with something deeper.

"I dare you to never mention his name again. And I told you—don't use him to threaten me. He has nothing to do with us. He had nothing to do with me the moment he disappeared and left the capital. So stop putting him as prey in your hunting game, Kael. Whatever grudge you have against me, don't ever drag him into it," Elira's rage surged.

She didn't understand why, though. Every time it was about Thane, something wild and uncontrollable overtook her mind. Especially when Kael clearly refused to let go of whatever had happened between her and Thane. Her stomach twisted with something deep and painful she couldn't name. She stood abruptly, ready to walk away.

"One thing you should understand, Elira—once I find a werewolf, I never let them leave me alive," Kael said, coldly.

Elira was already turning her back to him. She didn't reply—just sent him a glare sharp as death before disappearing from his sight.

Kael's gaze, on the other hand, lingered on her figure long after she was gone. He exhaled deeply, as if he had been holding his breath the whole time.

"I shouldn't leave them alive," he murmured to himself, as if bracing himself to remember the blood that ran in his veins.

Then softer, almost to the air around him:

"The full moon is near. Let's see... you might need me when he's not around."

_________________________________________________________________

The sound of Kael's comments about Thane identity still echoes in Elira's mind even after she has reached her own bedroom. There is no way Thane could be a werewolf. She tried to tell herself quietly. Then she remembers the first time Thane learnt that Elira was the daughter of Malven and the fiancée of Kael Rennar.

Kael's smirk reminded her of Thane's face that day—how hope had died in his eyes when she said, "I never had the choice.

(FLASHBACK)

The wheel rattled noisily, a contrast to the peaceful interior of the Malven family cart, where Duke Malven and his only daughter sit in uncomfortable stillness under a lot of stress. Duke Malven tried to pierce Elira's face with his glare, his eyes piercing and his manner cold.

The Duke was the first to break it, remembering her previous false court appearance and saying, "You embarrassed me."

"I provided a valid—"

"You presented it before I gave you permit to speak," he interrupted, his cold gaze fixed on her. "You are not there to show your intellect, Elira. You are brought there to support mine."

She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "But the point needed to be made."

"And it could have been made through me." His tone sharpened. "Your role is not to stand out. Not to sound clever. You know that."

"I know," she said quietly.

"You were not brought to court to shine, but to serve your father."

Elira gazed lowered as she has no room to speak in front of him.

"I apologize"

Before she could breath again, the cart suddenly jolted violently. The horse neighed in protest, the driver cursed at something that make them stoped absurbtly.

"What does this mean?" Duke Malven lost his temper.

A tiny figure, a child no more than seven years old, staggered into view outside. Evidently in a daze.

"Get out of the way, street rat! This is a nobleman's road. Now get up!" The child, still dazed and confused, was yelled at by the driver.

Elira froze in her chair and leaned forward. The boy continued to shake.

Then—that voice.

"Stop yelling at him. He is injured.

Her heart thumped.

Thane.

She turned just enough to peek through the closed curtain without drawing attention to herself.

He was already crouching next to the child, looking for injuries, his coat rumpled and his brows furrowed.

The driver scowled. "Mind your business. This child ran into our path. You want to be blamed too?"

Thane rose, jaw tight. "And I suppose you intend to drive off after nearly trampling him? Where's the apology?"

Elira's breath stoped.

Duke Malven leaned slightly forward, squinting at the commotion. "That man," he muttered, "he's one of those scribes, isn't he? Commoners always looking for reasons to make noble houses look bad."

Then he turned to Elira, lips pressed thin.

"Fix this. Now. Before it turns into a scene. Offer coin, herbs, whatever they want. I will not have the Malven name sullied by a petty complaint."

She stiffened. "You want me to—?"

"Yes, you. This is exactly why you're allowed outside the estate—to handle things."

And like that, she was caught.

If she went outside, Thane would notice. He would know. Elira, the quiet girl in the library who listened through a veil, would no longer be her. She would be Malven's daughter.

But if she didn't, the child would be rejected, her name would be tarnished, and Thane, who had always been able to see through things, would be even more disgusted.

Slowly, she gathered herself and climbed off the cart.

The street noises faded as she got closer to them.

Thane's eyes lifted in casual recognition, then widened in shock. "You...?"

She looked at him, her veil in place, her voice steady. "The child should be examined by a physician. You'll get a voucher from me. in addition to funds for the family's time."

Thane blinked. "Are you her? You're—?

"Elira of House Malven." She called out, "Please," before he could continue. " Let's not exacerbate this."

Her heart was pounding. Her voice sounded like her father's, cold and distant, and she hated it. But it was the only defence she had.

As though attempting to make sense of the woman in front of him and the one who had sat next to him in a storm, quoting philosophers and silently grinning at his jokes, Thane looked at her—really looked—and she watched his eyes shutter. The girl who debated grain taxes in the library had vanished, leaving a Malven statue in her place.

He was clearly and sharply disappointed.

But as he helped the child up gently, he took the voucher and the coin.

"No more running into roads, yeah?" He whispered to the boy.

Then he said in a low voice, "You didn't have to hide," to Elira.

Before he could witness the emotion pierce her poise, she turned away.

"I never had the choice."

And then she stepped back into the cart, vanishing like she'd never known the scent of parchment, never read poetry in the dark, never listened as he spoke about dreams, systems, change.

He stood alone in the aftermath.

"She is the Malven girl, right?" a voice whispered nearby. Two women at a vendor's stall watched the cart disappear.

"The one engaged to the war hero?"

"Yes. The one left waiting."

Thane's breath caught.

Engaged?

Already disappearing into the mist, he gazed after the waggon. Is she engaged to the hero of the war? Kael Rennar?

Rennar. The name was as cold as ice. The King trusted him, nobles feared him, and commoners dared only mutter about him. From a distance, Thane had seen a guy who exuded the kind of authority he had always hated and secretly feared.

Rennar is well-known for being the wolfhunter, who killed members of his kind. The name tasted like blood. Thane had seen his work—wolves strung up like carcasses in the town square. And Elira_ She is enganged by that man, though. His heart begins to feel betrayed. It feels hefty. His heart was pounding frantically.

Elira is his fated mate. He has known that since their first encounter. She is destined to become close to him. Her scent called to his wolf—a song only mates could hear.

Despite her apparent lack of awareness, she is a wolf. However, his partner is in a relationship with a Rennar man who would pursue him to die if he were to find him.

The coin she'd given him felt like a brand. Payment for silence. As if love could be bought like a child's scraped knee —cold, heavy, damning. And he knew one thing in that instant, under the rising moonlight and bloody smell: if Kael ever found out who Elira really was, he wouldn't think twice about killing her.